


Your Crown for a Song

by oshare_banchou



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Skinship, Sleeping Together, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 16:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12963522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oshare_banchou/pseuds/oshare_banchou
Summary: In Barcelona, Victor dreams of "life" and "love"--only to find something sweeter still.





	Your Crown for a Song

     When Victor feels gentle fingers stroking his hair, winding their way through the strands before dipping lower to caress the sensitive skin on the nape of his neck, he believes he has simply slipped from one dream into another. The touch fades, then disappears altogether; he misses it dearly by the time it returns to thread through his hair and meander its way down, down, past his shoulders, before beginning the cycle anew. Victor basks in the soothing, hypnotic rhythm, slowing his breaths to match its tempo and sinking deeper into the touch as the feather-light strokes slowly but surely grow bolder.

     The touch reminds him of Yuuri’s, Victor realizes, in the way it rises and falls like the tide, building in a steady crescendo quite imperceptible until the groundswell has already swept him off his feet. As the touch lingers, making a pleasant tingling sensation bloom warm and giddy from his head to his toes, Victor’s imagination runs wild with its newfound inspiration and paints a vivid picture: He and Yuuri are waiting in the tunnel at Worlds when suddenly Yuuri pulls him aside, away from the chaotic pulse of lights and cameras and music. He looks up at Victor intently, like an artist studying his canvas, and brushes his bangs free so they frame his face _just so_ … Then he leans up on his skates and whispers, in a voice meant for only Victor to hear, “Perfect”—so that when Victor takes the ice moments later, he knows the butterflies inside have nothing to do with pre-competition jitters.

     The scene in his mind’s eye shifts, and Victor pictures himself strolling arm in arm with Yuuri down a lantern-lit street in Florence—stealing time from busy schedules to wander the city wherever their fancy takes them. They cross the Arno River as the sun dips below the horizon, then indulge in wine and slow dancing as music drifts over a moonlit piazza.

     Free to wonder, Victor dares to imagine he is snuggled next to Yuuri on the couch in his flat on a rare lazy winter morning, with Makkachin sprawled across their laps and mugs of hot chocolate warming their hands. He is telling Yuuri a story—something silly, perhaps about some of the shenanigans he and Makkachin used to get up to when Victor was a teenager and Makkachin just a puppy. Yuuri doubles over with laughter, and the morning sunlight glints off the gold ring he has worn with pride ever since that night in Barcelona…

     Victor stirs from his dreams when the metal of a familiar ring—warmed by body heat but still cool by comparison—skates up and across the bare skin of his abdomen to settle over his heart. His eyelids flutter open, and their hotel room in Barcelona begins to take shape around him. His gaze drifts from the bouquets of flowers heaped on the desk, awash in low lamplight, to the room service tray long since liberated of its champagne and strawberries, to their paired exhibition costumes hanging side by side over the wardrobe door. Yet even as the dream fades from view, the sensation of Yuuri’s body pressed close to his only grows stronger, warmer, clearer still…until it becomes reality.

     Victor wakes with a smile as he closes his hand over Yuuri’s.


End file.
